


and i waited for you

by Silverfox579



Series: In the Shadows of a Footstep [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox579/pseuds/Silverfox579
Summary: Death loses a bet, and Tom and Harry take their childhood guardian out for a stroll.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: In the Shadows of a Footstep [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979984
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	and i waited for you

"Are you sure we have to-"

"Yes, Mors. It won't kill you to go out once in a while. Besides, I've already planned everything- are you going to make all my hard work go to waste?"

Mors - generally known as Death - sulks. His form for the day, currently a small boy with obsidian eyes and soft black hair, makes a pouting expression, and Harry coos and pats his head.

He melts into the touch and finally says, "Only for a little bit. I don't like being out here."

"I know," Harry soothes, taking his hand and opening the door. "But we like being with you, and I want to go out with you instead of leaving you by yourself."

"I'm used to it," Mors mumbles, curling his hand around Harry's. Harry squeezes the appendage lightly, and Mors pretends that he's not as happy as he feels. "And besides, it's not like you're leaving me. I always know where you are."

"Hiding isn't the same as being out here with us," Harry insists. "Neither of us are ashamed to be seen with you, and I want to make sure you know that too."

Mors grimaces to himself. Everything seems to be getting tied back to the 'Are you afraid of me' talk. He almost misses the days where Harry and Tom were hardly so grown and adored him innocently without thinking about complicated stuff.

"Harry, Mors," Tom greets them when they step out, his smile warm as he leans over and presses a kiss to Harry's cheek. "Ready?"

Mors nods silently when Tom glances at him and without prompting the somewhat-secret Dark Lord takes his other hand. Mors feels something stir inside his dead heart at the feeling of warmth in his hands. How many centuries did he spend, alone, waiting-?

Tom squeezes his hand. "You've got that look on your face again."

"I don't even have a face most of the time," Mors replies, bewildered. "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

"Neither you or Harry are very good at concealing your expressions," Tom replies dryly. "Just relax, nothing will go wrong-"

"Oh, don't say that," Harry mutters. "That's just asking for trouble."

"Anyway," Tom presses, shooting Harry a dry look that makes his husband hide a smile. "Shall we go?"

Mors smiles amusedly at the both of them and with a flick of his will, darkness emerges from the ground and swallows the three of them up. In an instant, they're popped back out again, in a small uninhabited corner of Diagon Alley.

"Alright, let's go," Harry says, a bright smile on his face. Tom allows an indulgent smile to cross his face and they both more or less drag Mors out of the alley.

The streets are bustling with people upon people. Mors glances around in dismay. But he promised Harry he'd try his best, so he resists the urge to flicker into the shadows.

"Come on, over here," Harry smiles and they head to one of the open stalls, revealing wooden accessories with runes for protection and luck engraved in them. Mors looks at them curiously and Harry says, "They're made of Elder wood. Neat, right?"

"They look nice," Mors agrees, looking at a small figurine of an owl. It's carved in exquisite detail, and from the edges, he can tell they're all hand-carved. For a moment, old loneliness and nostalgia pangs in his chest, and he can't help a wistful smile.

"We'll take that one," Tom says, picking up the owl and tossing over a galleon. "Keep the change."

Mors blinks when the carving is handed to him. Tom gives him a small nod and Mors hesitantly fishes out the gloves Tom had made for him, carefully slipping them on before taking the carving.

He waits, but it never crumbles into ashes. He runs a hand over the beautiful, powerful wings of the owl and murmurs, his voice quiet, "Thank you. I'll take care of it."

"I know you will," Tom replies softly, and then steers him forward. "Now- where did Harry disappear to?"

Mors looks up, alarmed, and finds that their third member really has gone off somewhere. His eyes glow and he says, "He's behind us, four o'clock."

Tom turns, and Harry bounds toward them, grinning. The man hands them all caramel candied art, and Mors takes the caramel butterfly flapping on the stick carefully.

"I found it over there," Harry says, inclining his head toward a stall somewhere in the back. "Try it, Mors."

Tentatively, he takes a lick. It's...sweet. He quickly consumes the treat and Harry smiles fondly, handing him another stick. Mors takes it and his expression relaxes as the sugar melts on his tongue. The benefits of having a human body.

"Oh my, what a coincidence," Harry says in a not very convincing tone of surprise. Tom shoots him a dry look that Harry deliberately ignores. "Look, it's a bubble show."

In the center of the plaza, in front of the fountain that changes shapes every hour, there's a man casting bubble magic and shaping the liquid into animals for the children. Harry steers them toward the forming crowd to watch.

It's a fantastic sight. Bubble animals, in every shape and size, roam around the premises. A bubble unicorn gallops through the air, shaking its mane in a detailed impression of the real creature, and one child screams in pleasure as a bunny hops up to nuzzle against her.

Mors glances at Harry, who nods encouragingly. Tentatively, he steps into the edge of the crowd of children, and a thestral bubble animal flies down to meet him. Mors reaches out, and the soapy creature nuzzles against his hand affectionately.

He smiles softly, and other animals begin to gather around him. He blinks in surprise when a particularly enthusiastic werewolf chomps on his nose, leaving a wet spot. He's pretty sure he spots Harry catching the moment on camera somewhere behind him.

It's- nice. The bubble show ends, and Mors gets more candy from Harry to nibble on while they walk around. The next place they stop by is a cloth store, where Tom spends an hour comparing different shades of fabric.

"On second thought," Harry whispers to him as Tom consults with the enthusiastic store apprentice. "Next time, let's just skip the fashion section entirely."

Mors nods in agreement and Tom pretends he can't definitely hear them.

Around mid-afternoon, Harry takes them both to a theater at the corner of Diagon and they settle into the premium booth seats.

Tom opens up the program. "What kind of play is this?"

Harry grins. "A special one."

The curtain draws open, and a blonde, overweight man steps out. He taps his wand to his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for attending the Morgan and Morgana Troupe's rendition of The Tale of Three Brothers! Without further ado, let us begin!"

Before Mors can even begin to register that, the lights go out and the curtains draw open. A redhead man, wearing the most ridiculous outfit he's ever seen, steps out and shouts, "Oh brothers, brothers, we are the brothers three!"

Tom chokes beside him and all Mors can say is, "They did not dress like that."

It gets worse from there. The plump blonde narrates the story of Ignotus, Cadmus, and Antioch. Ignotus, who is apparently secretly a woman and a brunette, enters an affair with her brother's servant on their journey to the River Stix.

On the other hand, Cadmus is blonde, which is the only accurate fact about this whole thing. The character on stage sobs the whole way there, dramatically proclaiming for his brothers to 'Go on without him' more than once, for literally anything.

Antioch towers over the lot of them at 6'5 and he has a particularly Irish accent. The brown-haired man lumbers around an ax and then spends thirty minutes reciting a tribute about it when he breaks it cutting down the tree to cross the river.

Finally, the brothers make it across the river and a figure in a dark cloak, face obscured, says in a chilling voice, "Clever brothers, what shall ye have for this feat?"

"I desire a wand that can be bested by no other," Antioch declares, his chest puffed out proudly. "To be the strongest warrior in the land is my heart's desire."

"Then you shall have the wand of Elder," 'Death' declares, clapping their hands. A wand appears in Antioch's hands. "But be warned- only a truly great wizard can wield a truly great wand."

"Oh, thanks!" Antioch takes the wand and grins, going back across the river.

"I desire a stone that can resurrect the dead," Cadmus declares, sniffling. "T-To see my beloved again is my heart's desire."

"Then you shall have the stone of the dead," 'Death' replies. "But be warned- where the living walk, the dead cannot follow."

"My sweet Annie, wait for me!" Cadmus grabs the stone and flees across the river eagerly.

And finally, Ignotus.

"I desire a cloak that can hide from Death itself," Ignotus declares boldly. "To live a life on my own terms is my heart's desire."

"Then you shall have the cloak of invisibility," 'Death' says, handing over a silvery cape. "But be warned- Death comes for all."

"I'll take my chances, thanks," Ignotus grabs the cloak and drapes it over her shoulders. A simple disillusionment charm and she disappears from view.

From there, the play turns tragic, following the legends. Antioch, killed after proudly boasting in a local tavern. Cadmus, killing himself to be with the shade of his dead wife.

And then finally- Ignotus.

At the end of the play, Ignotus removes the cloak, her hair white. Death silently extends a hand and she takes it, smiling as she leaves the cloak behind for her grandchildren to find. And together, the two disappear from the crowd's sight.

"What did you think?" Harry asks as they step outside.

"It was horrible," Mors laughs. Harry's breath catches at the sound and then he's smiling, so brilliantly that the sun wouldn't even compare. "Everything about it was so wrong- did the legends get twisted so badly?"

"I take it Ignotus wasn't female then," Tom says, his eyes filled with warmth.

"No, he was male," Mors shakes his head, a smile twitching on his face. "And he wasn't a brunette either. All three of them were blondes. Though the genes didn't stick in the family line."

"Well, as a thank you for enduring this outing," Harry declares. "I've compromised. Tom's set up a fancy dinner at home."

"Thank you," Mors says, looking up at giving Harry a ghost of a smile. "Today was- nice."

Harry beams. "I'm glad you liked it. What about you, Tom?"

"At least you did your research this time," Tom replies, his smile soft. "Yes, it was lovely, Harry. From now on, you can plan all of our dates."

"Oh Merlin no," Harry laughs. "Just this was so much work- I don't know how you do it."

"Well," Tom says smugly. "I am the best."

"Prat," Harry says fondly. "Mors, take us home?"

Obligingly, Mors warps them over to the manor and they emerge in the middle of the living room. Catching scent of something quite wonderful smelling, he wanders over to the kitchen.

"I'm pretty sure I could've just taken him to a buffet house and he would've loved it," Harry snorts, sliding off his outer coat as Tom wraps an arm around his waist. "Isn't it strange that Death is a foodie?"

"Not as strange as a sixteen-year-old defeating the Dark Lord," Tom replies, pressing a kiss to his neck and resting his chin on his shoulder. "The Elder Wand- I never did find it."

"I'm sure he'd tell if you asked," Harry says softly, intertwining their fingers together. "He'd tell us almost anything if we asked."

Tom silently casts a glance a the doorway. He doesn't need to voice his agreement. One of the many commonalities of their childhood included having a god for a silent guardian. It was made their relationship work- two people who equally loved another person. Deity.

Harry presses a kiss to his lips in silent askance and Tom inclines his head to show he's alright. Smiling, Harry gives their hands a final squeeze before heading for the dining room. After a beat, Tom follows, the sounds of laughter and harmony making his heart beat contentedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fire crackles loudly.

Mors, in the same body but looking a decade older, sits at the bed with Tom and Harry on either side of him. As has become ritual, the other two silently read with Mors beside them, until one - or all - of them fall asleep.

"I asked him," Mors suddenly says, breaking the silence as he stares distantly at the wall. "Ignotus. I asked him if he wanted to be my Master. After Cadmus committed suicide."

Harry immediately closes his book, giving him his utmost attention. Tom keeps his book out, but from the way he leans back, he's not focused on reading at all.

"He refused," Mors says quietly. "And then he hid from me. I only found him after his soul had departed. But he was- I liked him. He'd always understood the burden. I guess that's why he was wise enough to avoid it."

Harry reaches over and squeezes his hand. Mors casts him a small smile. "It was a long time ago. But the three of them- they were such bright souls. Did you know, that when I gave Cadmus the stone, it was because he wanted to give it to his wife? Her sister had died, and it had been eating away at her health."

He glances down at the ring glistening on Tom's hand and the man begins to twist it off, but Mors shakes his head. 

"It ate away at her," Mors says softly. "And then it ate at him. I watched it all. And then Antioch- he'd lost so many people. There was so much conflict back then. He'd gotten the strongest wand, but one by one, his friends turned on him for it. By the time he reached the tavern, he'd already been suicidal."

"He let himself be killed," Harry murmurs in realization. "He couldn't carry the burden."

Mors nods. "I always wonder, what they might have been if they hadn't met me. If I hadn't given them the Hollows. I think- they might have been happier."

Tom turns to face him and says, his voice soft, "Well I, for one, am glad that I met you. We both are. The Peverells were fools. Before I met Harry, Death, I loved you."

"We both did," Harry confirms, squeezing his hand again. "How could we not? You were always protecting us. Watching over us. Our guardian angel."

Mors looks at them in silent awe. They've always managed to astound him. Always so fearless, always so careful. It was strange to think that they cared, but as they had reiterated multiple times, they did. 

"You don't have to use this form to convince us of that either," Tom says gently but firmly.

Mors silently quivers, and then the childish skin he'd worn for their outing melts into a hazy black figure. There are two moon-white lights where his eyes would be, and no mouth. He's a living shadow, taller than a child but smaller than an adult. 

Tom smiles, unrepulsed, and lifts up a shadowy hand, pressing a kiss to it. Mors quivers a little again, and Harry smiles sadly.

"Good night, Mors," Harry murmurs as the lights turn off, pressing a kiss to the deity's forehead. There is no skin, but there is a solid sensation, despite his shadowy body having no clear outline. Just like he remembers from his childhood, his friend's body is cold like ice.

Tom drapes the blankets over the three of them. Mors closes his beautiful milky-white eyes, and after a beat, so does Harry, falling asleep and dreaming of the day Death had descended and hooked their pinkies together in a childish, powerful promise.


End file.
